Serendipity: A Bayou Magic Novel Read online

  “What?”

  She tips her head to the side. “Have you always had a little girl who looks in your window?”

  “Oh, that?” I wave my hand in dismissal. “Yeah. I don’t see her, but I walked barefoot across my balcony one day after I first moved in here, and I felt her. She used to live here.”

  “We can help her move on,” Millie offers.

  “No,” Brielle says, shaking her head. “She looks over things. Keeps an eye out. Don’t send her away.”

  “I don’t mind if she stays.” I reach for another slice of pizza and try to sound nonchalant. “Hey, Mill, do you have a sleeping potion that can keep a person from dreaming?”

  “Sure.” Millie pours us all glasses of wine. “Do you want to swing into the café tomorrow? I’ll give it to you.”

  “That would be great,” I admit. “I’m sleeping fine, but my dreams are all over the place, so I’m always tired.”

  “That’s exhausting,” Millie says. “I have something that will help.”

  “Great, thanks.” I sip my wine. “Jackson came by today.”

  “Tell us everything.” Brielle takes a drink. “Did you get naked?”

  “Of course, not.” I roll my eyes.

  “Oh, come on, Daph,” Millie says. “He’s still hot. Maybe hotter. Are you telling us that you feel nothing for him?”

  “No, I’m not saying that at all. I’m as attracted to him today as I was when I met him at seventeen.”

  “Then why won’t you give him a chance?”

  “Who says he wants a chance?” I ask.

  “Oh, come on. Jack’s still into you.” Brielle points at me. “You’re just being stubborn.”

  “I’m protecting myself,” I admit. “He hurt me. No, he destroyed me. And if I let him in now, he could do it again. I don’t think I’d survive it a second time.”

  “Maybe stay wary, but also let him kiss you,” Millie suggests. “Because he wants to kiss you.”

  “Stop reading his mind.”

  “I haven’t read him,” Millie insists. “You don’t have to be psychic to know that man wants to get his lips on you—and probably other things, too.”

  I laugh and fill our wine glasses again. “Well, he can keep his lips to himself.”

  “That’s so boring,” Millie insists.

  “Then here’s to boring.” I hold my glass up in cheers. “Just because you two are all about hearts and flowers doesn’t mean I have to follow suit.”

  “We want you to be happy, Daph,” Brielle says.

  “I am happy.” I smile, but I know they can see through me. See the lie.

  They always do.

  “I’m totally happy.”

  Chapter Three

  Jackson

  “What a lovely surprise.” Miss Sophia opens the door of her cabin in the bayou and gestures for me to come inside. “I just put on some tea.”

  “At six in the morning, I’m usually a coffee man.” I smile down at her as she closes the door and gestures again for me to follow her. “But you always make a mean cup of tea.”

  “It’ll be good for you.”

  “Are you going to add a protection potion like Millie does?” I ask and lean on the doorjamb of her tidy kitchen as she pours the cups.

  “No, she has you covered there,” Miss Sophia replies with a wink.

  “I’m sorry if I woke you.”

  “You didn’t. I knew you were coming, so I was up early, brewing this tea.” She passes me the cup and offers me honey and milk, but I take it black. “You’re worried.”

  “Yeah.” I push my hand through my hair and sit across the table from Miss Sophia, who just sips from her mug and watches me with wise, blue eyes. “He’s going to try to hurt her.”

  “Of course.”

  She doesn’t even play coy, asking who he is.

  I love that about her.

  “How do I stop it?”

  She sips again and watches me over the rim. “You know I can’t tell you that.”

  “No, I don’t know it. If you know how to resolve all of this, why won’t you just tell us so we can get rid of this murdering bastard for good?”

  “Because that’s not how it’s meant to be.” She smiles when I curse under my breath. “Ah, Jackson, I did miss you. And I’m glad that you’re home now, where you should be.”

  “I feel like I’ve come into a game at the end of the fourth quarter and haven’t warmed up. But I’m still expected to throw the winning pass.”

  “If you’d joined the others sooner, it wouldn’t have been the right time. Not right for you, nor right for Daphne. Each sister had to complete her quest before it was Daphne’s turn.”

  “My turn.”

  She doesn’t answer. She simply smiles.

  “The others told me that I’m one of the six.”

  “Oh, you’ve already met with them then? How lovely.”

  “No.” I stand and pace near the table. “No, nothing about this is lovely.”

  “You’re right. But I’m happy to hear that you’re working together. The sooner, the better.”

  “Horace has already started,” I say and turn to find her serene smile gone, and her sharp eyes narrowed.

  “Tell me.” Her voice is a whip.

  I explain what Daphne and I both saw at the wedding reception. The one that was held just behind this house, out in a field where the coven performs sacred rites regularly.

  “And I’m having visions,” I admit.

  It’s not encouraging when her jaw drops.

  “Jackson, the spells I cast to keep your visions away, everything we’ve done to prevent exactly that, are strong.”

  “And yet, here we are.” I sit again and watch her grimly. “It seems the visions are going to happen, regardless. I thought of dropping my shields altogether so I could see better and protect Daphne, but Lucien said no.”

  “I agree with him,” she says and stands to mix herbs, putting them into a little brown pouch. “I know that Millie is our hedgewitch, but I want you to take this tea and drink it. A cup every day.”

  She passes it to me, and I tuck it into my pocket.

  “I need more information.”

  She sits once more and lets out a small sigh. I think this is the first time in my life I’ve ever seen Miss Sophia look conflicted.

  “The answers you seek are in the other five. I’m not permitted to tell you what you want to hear, Jackson. Giving you too much information could be dangerous. But I’ll say this: You must be careful. Stay aware. Take anything you see or feel with a grain of salt. Everything from here on out is important.”

  “Pay attention.” I nod. “Yeah, well, it’ll be hard not to. I won’t let him hurt her.”

  She reaches across the table and takes my hand. “Child, being hurt is inevitable.”

  I shake my head, but before I can reply, the edges of my vision go gray, and I’m thrust into a vision.

  Daphne. I’m looking at Daphne’s apartment. Her door opens. She looks down with a scowl, picks up an envelope, and then screams.

  “Jackson?”

  “I have to get to Daphne. Damn it. I need to get to her now.”

  I stand and rush out of the cabin, driving faster through the bayou than anyone has any business going. Traffic through the French Quarter isn’t crazy yet as most of the city is still asleep.

  I run a red light and come to a screeching halt in front of Daphne’s building. As I’m rushing up the walk, I see her door open.

  “Daph!” I yell, catching her attention.

  She blinks and then frowns at me. “What are you doing here?”

  I run up the stairs to her balcony and see the envelope on the stoop.

  Before she can look down and grab it, I snatch it up.

  “What’s that? Jack, this isn’t funny.”

  “I had a vision.” I’m panting like crazy from the adrenaline and running up the stairs. “Shit, Daph, I came all the way from Miss Sophia’s.”

  I back
her into her apartment.

  “Okay, now you’re freaking me out,” she says. “You’re as pale as a ghost.”

  The envelope pulses in my grasp as if it has a heartbeat.

  “Give me the envelope.” Her voice is perfectly calm. Her face clear of distress. She holds her hand out. “It’s okay, Jack.”

  “I’m right next to you,” I remind her. “I’m right here.”

  “Okay. We’ve got this.”

  I pass it to her, and she immediately scowls.

  “Heartbeat?” I ask her.

  “So weird,” she mutters. “But everything about this is ridiculously weird.”

  On the back of the envelope, written in a chicken scratch that looks like something a six-year-old wrote, is one word: DAPHNE.

  “I’m putting fingerprints all over this,” she mutters. “Cash’ll be pissed.”

  “Well, you have to see what’s inside,” I remind her.

  She pulls out a photo.

  A Polaroid.

  In black and white, it’s a picture of a woman staring straight into the camera—only her shoulders and head visible in the frame.

  And her eyes are missing.

  “Oh, my goddess,” Daphne mutters and puts the photo facedown.

  “There’s a timestamp on it,” I say and slip the image from her hands to study it. “Two-oh-eight in the afternoon. Today.”

  We look at each other.

  “Today?” she asks. “It’s only like seven in the morning.”

  “I think this means he’s going to kill her this afternoon.”

  “But who is she?” Daphne takes the photo back from me. “Without her eyes, it’s almost impossible to tell.”

  “Or the camera is broken. Or set on the wrong time.”

  “It’s set on the wrong time,” she confirms. “But on purpose. He’s messing with me now, Jack. It’s started.”

  I blow out a breath and reach for my phone.

  “Who are you calling?”

  “Your sisters. If you think we’re not telling them about this—”

  “I don’t think that. I know we are.” She sets the photo and envelope on the table in front of her, watching them as if they might jump up and bite her. “I need to get dressed.”

  “Do that. I’ll make the calls.”

  “Thanks.” She stands to walk into her bedroom but stops and looks back at me with haunted eyes. “Thank you. I mean that.”

  “No need to thank me, sweets.” I wink at her and toss her the arrogant grin I know she likes, just to lighten the mood and give her a second of normalcy.

  But when she’s out of the room, and Brielle answers her phone, I get serious again.

  “Jack?” Brielle asks. “Are you okay?”

  “It’s started,” I reply. “Everyone needs to come to Daphne’s.”

  “We’re on our way.”

  * * *

  “What happened?” Millie demands, the first in line as the four of them march into Daphne’s apartment. Millie has a huge paper sack, and Lucien comes in right behind her with a tray of coffees.

  Brielle has another tray.

  “You brought breakfast?” Daphne asks in surprise.

  “We have to eat,” Cash says and bites into an apple fritter. “And you know she put all kinds of woo-woo protection stuff in all of this.”

  “It’s a two-for,” Brielle agrees. “Now, talk.”

  I explain my visit to Miss Sophia—the vision and racing over to Daph’s.

  “How did you know that it hadn’t happened yet? Or that it wasn’t happening as you saw it?” Cash asks.

  “Because that’s not how it works with me,” I reply. “It’s always precognition. I don’t know how I knew it was about to happen right away. I just knew I had to get here.”

  “Then we found the envelope,” Daphne says, picking up the story. “Brought it inside and opened it.”

  “Did both of you touch it?” Cash asks.

  “Yeah.” Daphne winces when Cash’s eyes narrow.

  “Have I taught you nothing?” he demands.

  “I had to open it,” Daphne replies. “And let me just say, I could have gone my whole life without seeing what was inside.”

  Cash puts on some gloves—ignoring the snickers from the rest of us at the sight of him carrying gloves around—and then reaches over to the table to pick up the envelope.

  When he pulls out the photo, his face goes stone-cold.

  “Son of a bitch.”

  “Oh, damn,” Brielle mutters.

  Millie and Lucien look at each other and seem to have some unspoken conversation.

  “The timestamp,” I point out.

  Cash scowls again. “It hasn’t happened yet.”

  “Wait, what?” Millie asks. “What do you mean?”

  “Just that,” Cash says. “The time on this photo is later today.”

  “He hasn’t killed her yet,” Lucien says.

  “But she’s missing her eyes,” Daphne puts in.

  “We’re dealing with a supernatural entity,” Millie reminds us all. “He can manipulate technology. But how is he doing this? Has he inhabited another body?”

  “Has anyone spoken with Dahlia lately?” Brielle asks.

  “Who’s Dahlia?” I blink at the others, still feeling like I didn’t do my homework.

  It’s damn frustrating.

  “Dahlia was the witch Hor—he inhabited last time,” Millie says with sadness in her blue eyes. “She sold her flower shop and moved to Miami. She’s long gone.”

  “I don’t blame her,” Brielle mutters. “After what she went through, I’d move far away, too.”

  “I don’t think he’s possessed someone else,” Lucien says, thinking it over. “I could be wrong, but that didn’t exactly work out well for him the last time.”

  “How else can he kill people?” I demand. “How can he take pictures and drop them off here?”

  “Good question,” Millie says. “That’s a damn good question. I need to consult the grimoires.”

  “I think we need to know who this woman is first. How do we get to her before he kills her?” Cash wonders.

  “You won’t find her,” Lucien says, sorrow heavy in his voice. “If we’ve learned anything from the past year, it’s that killing is what he does best. Better, even, than taunting our girls. It’s his passion, the way gardening or painting is for others. Murder is his hobby, and he’s damn good at it.”

  “Who is she?” Daphne mutters, examining the photo. “And why is it so hard to identify someone without their eyes?”

  “I can run her through a database,” Cash offers. “But it’s not going to be fast. I’ll narrow it down to anyone living in Louisiana with the attributes that we can make out, but as we all know, she could be a tourist.”

  “It can’t be hopeless,” I mutter. “Why else would he show us who he’s going to kill?”

  “Aside from the fact that he’s a sick fuck?” Cash asks.

  “Okay, point taken.” We sit in silence for a moment. “He was able to get to Daph’s doorstep. He walked right up here and left this on the mat.”

  “The protection spells are for inside the dwelling,” Millie replies.

  “Is it possible to put her in a bubble? If he can get to her door, he can look in the windows.”

  “I’m on the second floor,” Daphne reminds me.

  “And he’s not a man anymore. Do you think he can’t just float on up here and look inside?”

  Daphne goes pale and swallows hard. “Well, that’s a lovely thought. I’ll never get naked again.”

  “He can’t see inside,” Millie rushes to assure us. “I set that spell, as well. He can’t see in. He can’t hear what happens in here, either.”

  “Well, that’s something, I guess.” I reach over and take Daphne’s hand, encouraged when she doesn’t immediately pull away. “You are safe here, you know.”

  “Yeah. Sure.” She blows out a breath. “I don’t know what to do. I have to open the shop today,
but I hate the idea of knowing that this poor woman is out there somewhere, going through Goddess knows what. And that she only has mere hours to live.”

  “Unfortunately, there’s nothing you can do,” Lucien says and rubs circles over Millie’s back. “It’s already been set in motion.”

  “I’ll do what I can on my side of things,” Cash says. “I’m taking this with me.”

  “Good.” Daphne waves it away. “Get it out of here. I don’t want to see it again.”

  “I’m going to Reflections with you,” I inform Daphne. “I’m going to be stuck to you like glue for the foreseeable future.”

  “That’s just silly—” she starts to object, but Brielle surprises her by speaking up.

  “That’s an excellent idea,” Brielle says. “You shouldn’t be alone, Daph. Even with all the protection spells in the world. We’ve learned the hard way that this maniac can manipulate and worm his way in where he’s not wanted. It will make me feel so much better if Jackson sticks close.”

  “I don’t need a babysitter,” Daphne mutters, but she doesn’t argue. “Fine. You can be the muscle of the operation today. Some heavy pieces came in that I want on the showroom floor.”

  “It’s always my pleasure to be the brawn to your brains.”

  Daphne rolls her eyes, and Lucien laughs.

  “It’s settled then,” Millie says.

  * * *

  “I want that planter over there,” Daphne says, pointing at the far end of the showroom. “By the window.”

  The damn thing is made of cement and has to weigh a hundred pounds.

  “Don’t you have a dolly?”

  “I can help,” she offers, but I wave her away.

  “Never mind, I have it.”

  I muscle it over to the spot she pointed out and then wipe my brow with my forearm. “Why don’t you have employees?”

  “No need.” She shrugs and then taps her lips with a forefinger as if she’s contemplating relocating the planter.

  “It stays,” I say. “It looks great.”

  “Fine. I don’t have employees because they’d just ask a bunch of questions that I don’t like answering. And from the experiences I’ve had, they’re not reliable.”

  “What if you’re sick? Or on vacation?”